by Noah Waters
Noah’s arrival in San Francisco was a culture shock. She took in the extreme change of scenery—the vast stretches of highway looked nothing like her back home country roads. They appeared to wrap around in bow knots like a Christmas ribbon on a package. What the Californian folks called countryside to her was inner city. Suburbanites was a new term she would come to hear often. It took a while before she realized this was a term for other human beings.
While Noah had two bachelor’s degrees and considered herself to be somewhat educated, it didn’t take long to see that she still had much to learn. Her in-processing, as the military liked to call the check-in procedure for the base, had gone fairly smoothly—a lot different than Cajun-style moving, which usually consisted of someone’s old rusted-out pickup hauling everything in a mile-high stack. She had been assigned to the same towers where the rest of the sea marshals would be staying. This would help to ease the introductions.
On her arrival, Noah had taken the local bus from the airport and was dropped off in front of the large iron gate to the base. Her first view was that of the ocean glittering in the sun. She watched the massive Coast Guard cutters in all their beauty and strength move about the shores with consistency and ease. At the front desk, she did not see anyone she recognized.
A few hours later, she was scrambling through her bags and pockets, searching. She had never been good at placing her keys in the same location twice. Moving to California probably wasn’t going to change that habit. Finally, the elevator stopped on the third floor of the towers of Jack London Square. As she stepped off she could hear herself whispering, “206, 206. Ah, here it is.” She turned the key in the door after thumbing through every item in her bag.
Upon entering she saw a bedroom, a kitchen, and a living room, which in Noah’s mind was perfect. The icing on the cake was a large garden tub. At least this is what the Californians called it. To Noah, it was a tub large enough to soak in completely while she daydreamed of beautiful, tropical plants and smelled mango-scented candles. This may not be so bad after all, she thought. Placing her bags to the side, she did a quick check to ensure that she had sufficient supplies—kitchen utensils, linens, and towels before she headed out the door. It looks like groceries are all I need at this point and a way of getting around town, she thought. For that, Noah knew where to go. She headed over to the Goods Receiving Center. One thing she had been assured by the military was the transfer of her bicycle from Biloxi to San Francisco.
It was aluminum, superlightweight, and comfortable with quick-grip handlebars; she had named it the Silver Ghost—“Silver,” for short.
Her arrival at the Receiving Center was perfectly timed. A petty officer had just pulled the bicycle from the packing box and finished double-checking its assembly. “My old friend,” she whispered as she leaned over the seat. “It’s good to see you again.” With a simple signature on the release paperwork, she hopped on tightly, securing her backpack and helmet.
The last gasp of a summer breeze meshed nicely with the sweet, salty autumn air. It was a comforting scent. The base was located in a perfect position for riding—the beach line parallel to the roadway. This provided a wonderful opportunity to ride the entire coastline. Noah had never seen so many tan people. Some had, no doubt, been exposed to the sun for most of their lives. There were fishermen, surfers, and swimmers of all sizes, shapes, and ages. There were people grilling, playing Frisbee, and walking dogs. The base area here was different from the one she had left behind in Mississippi. Rather than the beach being an occasional pastime, here it seemed ingrained.
Noah reached the base of the Bay Bridge—an expansive bridge that transported hundreds of thousands of vehicles from San Francisco to Oakland and vice versa. Pedaling at a steady rate, she slowed down long enough to catch the vision of a Maersk Sea vessel—a large container ship—larger than anything she had ever seen. The amount of containers on board its upper deck astonished her. They were containers of every size and shape—a quick guess—probably more than eight hundred.
Noah’s first thought was about the vast number of containers that could carry any type of threat—hidden inside. She had never thought about the amount of issues to deal with. She was from a world of canoes and shrimp boats. The possibility of securing such a vessel with so many independent cargo items was unfathomable. A honking horn startled Noah. Her focus quickly returned to her bridge. “Not a safe place to stop and think,” she said out loud. Returning to her pedaling, she proceeded to the other side to take the first exit off-ramp to along the docks.
The docks are the heart of the San Francisco Bay. Daily commerce here makes millions of dollars for the shipping industry. The docks connect the rest of the world to and from the Bay of San Francisco. As Noah cycled along the pathway, she could see security walking among the vessels. There were private yachts, tourist boats, and small independent maritime fishing vessels. A quick trip through Chinatown would provide her with an excellent opportunity to purchase groceries. Reporting in the next morning for duty, after all, would come early.
Her introduction to California’s warmth and variety in nature had proven her ability to adapt to change-of-culture with ease. Though born and raised with strict moral ethics and in a family with strong religious beliefs, Noah knew the world and its people did not all dance to the same music. California was certainly proof of that.
At no time in American history was cultural adaptability needed to such an extent by law enforcement. The country could not afford to go down the road of extreme racist profiling as its number-one line of defense. The United States had done that in the past more than once. A terrorist, however, had no specific country, color, or gender. A terrorist could be anyone or any group. There were thousands of different groups within the country and around the world that were angry—tempers flaring over any number of American policies. The ability to separate by purpose or cause, identify intent, and carry out an attack on a specific target would be crucial in identifying the real enemy.
The aroma of coffee floated through the air as Gramps held the warm cup up to his nose. It was around four in the morning and he had a full day ahead of him. The intelligence report from the ICC in Washington usually came in early. It provided the master chief plenty of opportunity to get his daily reading done. Gramps would plow through the vessel notices primarily looking at the line items that provided such data as the level of threat, port of arrival, and cargo record. Those vessels that ranked high were the first to be put on the chalkboard for scrutiny—their dates of arrival, departure, region of the world, and captain’s name. Red-flagged reports were those vessels considered the highest risk. The higher the risk, the further out at sea the vessel should be boarded. Along with the intelligence reports, Gramps kept at all times two scanners on, which reported daily and hourly maritime weather. This included sea swells or possible water funnels that might provide problems during a boarding. He considered the weather channel his most vital peace of information—the weather could play the ultimate role in a high-risk boarding. In some cases, if the weather was extremely rough, the crews would not be able to board safely. The safety of his boarding teams was Gramps’s highest concern.
The Pilots Association would also fax in daily information that kept Gramps advised of location pickups for the outgoing crews. The logistics of getting the boarding officers from shore out to the vessels was extremely important and had to be perfectly timed. The last thing he needed to hear from the White House was that he was holding up commerce. Gramps didn’t like being late; therefore, he always wanted his teams to be on time. His alarm clock was always set for 0300. By the time he dressed and drove to the Operations Command Center, the reports would already be piling up on his desk. Normally, the first boarding crew would be called in and dispatched for incoming vessels before 6 A.M. The hours were long and strenuous and it was critical that no detail was missed. Once the team had been dispatched, they were on their own. Gramps didn’t like that but there was nothing he could do. I
f and when a specific terrorist group had been located, the strategic plan was not yet in place. At present, operations were focused on the vessels’ control access points.
“Good morning.”
Gramps couldn’t imagine who was coming in this early in the morning. Looking through the steam from his coffee cup, he saw Noah standing before him.
“Good morning,” he replied.
“I’m Petty Officer Noah Waters.”
“Our new recruit?”
“Yes, master chief.”
“Welcome aboard. The first thing I need you to do this morning is report to the gym for testing. They are actually doing a Jacob’s ladder test first thing.”
“A Jacob’s ladder?” Noah questioned.
“A Jacob’s ladder,” master chief replied.
“No problem,” Noah replied.
“Let’s pray not!” Gramps remarked.
Noah bounded out the door as quickly as she had entered. The gym was easy to spot. It was one of the largest buildings on the base. A fast-paced walk took her up the steps and through the door; she entered just in time to see a young woman using all her strength to try to stabilize an unstable swinging ladder.
“Balance it, balance it. Center your balance—your weight,” Commander Dewey was almost screaming at this point.
“Don’t lean back,” he shouted.
By the time “lean back” had come out of his mouth, the young lady had shifted her central weight in a backward thrust, causing the ladder to shift to and fro even faster. Before she could centralize her weight, she lost her grip and fell down directly onto the mat.
“Never shift your weight like that,” said the commander who could be heard throughout the gym.
Noah stood observing—silent. Her hazel eyes walked the ladder step-by-step upward to the high gym beam. It reminded her of a barn ladder. Obviously, there must be more to it than a barn ladder. The girl before her did not seem to be a weakling. Could it be like one of those tricky ladders at the fair? Noah had never seen this exact ladder before and wasn’t sure what it was used for.
As she stared upward, a firm voice said, “You here for the test?”
Suddenly realizing the commander was in her presence, Noah stood at attention.
“Yes sir. Petty Officer Noah Waters reporting in for duty, sir.”
“Excellent.” Commander Dewey was glad to have the opportunity to test another female this morning—quickly scanning the petty officer’s shoulder for a name plate.
“Ah, you must be Petty Officer Waters from Mississippi.”
“Yes, sir” she replied, not sure how the commander was aware of her home. More than likely it was her accent that gave her away. Her deep Southern drawl had never changed despite her exposure to other regions.
“The ladder looks interesting.”
“It’s not complicated,” the commander approached the ladder as he spoke. “We’ve been at this for weeks. We are constantly training teams of two for this Sea Marshals’ unit we are creating. Predominantly, they are going to be posted in Los Angeles and San Francisco. A few will be sent to the Seattle region. From there we will see how it goes.”
Noah stood straight and remained silent as she listened closely. After all, her experience with the military had been short and she had no intention of screwing up right off the bat.
“The trick is to remember the ladder is stable only when the vessel is at a complete stop. You will never be exposed to a vessel at a complete stop. We have no authority to stop the vessel and the president of the United States has declared that security measures must not bring commerce to a halt. Therefore, you will always board with the vessel moving at a steady nautical pace.”
The commander continued, “While the California Pilots Association has many years of boarding experience under their belt, our teams with no previous experience are being trained expeditiously. The task requires balance, upper body strength, and self-confidence. If you fall in a real boarding situation, we can tell all the papers we did everything we could to save you, but in reality you’re fish bait. Between the pull of the blades, the tides of the ocean, and the weight of the gear—the odds are certainly not in your favor. Are you ready?”
“Always ready, sir.” Noah’s confidence took Commander Dewey by surprise. He was unsure if she had heard a word he had just said. There was a calm assurance in her voice that made him take notice.
“I’ll blow the whistle when to start. The goal is to climb to the top of the gym and touch the high beam, then to retreat to the lower level rung and jump. Any questions?”
“No, sir,” Noah responded self-assuredly.
The tweet of the whistle echoed through the gym. She sprung forward to immediately grasp the ladder at a rung higher than the first step. Her feet quickly—one after the other—climbed dual steps. Her speed with the ladder close to her center of gravity provided stability, leveraging her climb. As her climb neared the top, she could feel the shifting of the ladder beneath her. Noah understood her weight and how to make it work with the ladder. She mentally envisioned climbing to the top of the loft as she had done many times as a child to collect the morning eggs. Within minutes, the high gym beam was directly in front of her. Reaching out with her fingertips, she touched the red “X” mark and immediately proceeded to descend.
Commander Dewey had stepped back. The morning sun was now shining directly through the gym windows to expose his shocked facial expression. As Noah reached the fourth bottom rung, she sprung onto the mat.
“Was that what you meant, sir?”
The commander had never seen anyone this comfortable with the ladder. It was as if she and the ladder had become one. Her technique was unique. The commander imagined that it was her lightweight frame that had provided her great assistance and stability in this climb. Noah couldn’t imagine what the problem had been—why so many others had had problems with the ladder.
“Why has this ladder been such an issue, sir?” she asked in all sincerity.
From a small corner that remained darkened by the shadows of the bleachers, a voice responded.
“The ladder’s not the problem—most of the girls are from the city.” The sentence ended in a slight laugh. “They don’t traditionally climb ladders.”
Noah quickly turned. While unable to see, she knew who the voice belonged to. Stepping from the shadows was Casey—his perfect white teeth behind a large grin that could be seen a mile away.
“I’ll be damned,” Noah said. “They had to go all the way to Ohio for this group of people.”
“Hell no, they had to go all the way to Mississippi,” he responded.
By the time the last word had been heard, Casey had engulfed Noah with a huge hug, picking her petite frame from off the floor.
“I knew if anybody could do it, you could.”
“And he was right,” Commander Dewey stated joyfully. “How long have you been here?”
“A while,” Casey stated.
“Where are you staying?”
“At the Towers, and you?
“The same.”
“Gramps told me you got in this morning.”
“I figured I would run into Rachel, but I had no idea you were here.”
“Rachel’s handling the public affairs for this event.”
In Noah’s excitement to see Casey, she had forgotten she was in the presence of a commander. Immediately she returned to attention position.
“I apologize, sir.”
“It’s OK, Noah. We are a little more relaxed here. Our mission is to get this team together. You are a vital part of that team.”
“So, what’s next?”
“The handgun qualifications. After that you get your gear. I’m sure you won’t have any problems with qualifications. Once you get all your gear together and get settled, we’ll call Rachel on the phone and head down to San Francisco. Let’s relax some before Gramps puts us all to work.”
Noah felt at peace seeing Casey and the thought of seeing Ra
chel also made it feel like old times again. Being so far away from home now was sliding toward the back of her mind. Being near good friends was important to her. Not understanding the mission had given her a feeling of uneasiness; there was always the possibility of not being able to measure up to the standards required.
Noah had been raised in the deep woods of the South. That portion of her childhood had provided her with self-confidence. Her extensive police training had provided her with defense training and testing in ethics issues—she could be trusted.
Chapter XIII
THE INTELLIGENCE COMMAND CENTER (ICC) LOCATED IN SUITLAND, Maryland, was abuzz with activity. Captain James Baker was in charge of the Central Intelligence Division. Captain Baker had an enormous responsibility to protect the country—maritime protection. The ICC worked hand-in-hand with Naval Intelligence worldwide. There were always threats to the country. The United States had old enemies as well as emerging ones. Captain Baker, over his career, had seen Russia become less of a threat, while China was developing its capabilities daily. There was no doubt the Chinese were expanding their military might.
Maritime threat capability has always been a concern. Now, Captain Baker had an enemy that he had been unaware of. The enemy could be from any country and, at this point, have any military maritime capability. Because the United States had not directly cornered who had declared war upon American soil, there was no specific country to target. Everybody was suddenly open to scrutiny. Captain Baker’s concern for ships and their threat potential was significant. The intelligence watch floor received daily reports from all over the world. The materials covered everything from suspect companies to threats of piracy and beyond. The piracy activities in Somalia had been steadily increasing. The captain’s concerns on how to handle piracy issues consumed a lot of his day. While the definition of piracy and terrorism often became blurred, they were clearly two different threats. The captain figured in the last decade that piracy would increase by 70-to-80 percent in the Somali region.
